Halcyon Days
by CouslandSpitFire
Summary: In Greek legend there are seven days in winter when storms never occur: The Halcyon Days. This is a collection of moments/scenes centering around Aífe, the infamous little Cousland spitfire and the people around her. Various characters.
1. A little Present

**Present**

"Auntsie! Auntsie!", Aífe could hear Oren's frantic calls as he ran through the main hall. Even before she turned around to look him, she could hear the pitter-patter of little naked feet on the cold stone floor. Turning around just in time to catch him in her open arms, she lowered herself to a crouch and laughed as he threw his arms around her neck enthusiastically. He squealed in delight as she rose with him in her arms, twirling him around.

"I have something for you!", he whispered in a low and conspiratorial tone against her ear.

Throwing her father an amused glance over her shoulder, she inclined her head. "Ah, what is it?", she asked and smiled as the boy started to squirm in her arms. He was becoming quite the handful, it wouldn't be long before she wouldn't be able to lift him up any more.

Oren leaned forward to place a quick peck on her cheek and giggled against her skin – just before he gave her a long, slobbery and wet lick across the whole side of her face, blindly aiming for as much skin as he could reach. Before she could react he had wriggled out of her arms and stormed off, a mirthful giggle on his lips as he paused at the door. "Cow-peck!", he shouted and was gone the next moment.

Her father was howling with laughter behind her as she turned around to face him, one eyebrow raised. She wiped the back of her hand over her cheek with an exasperated sigh. She should have known that her nephew didn't just come to bestow a kiss on her. He didn't do that anymore since he had decided to be a _man_ now. Bryce Cousland's grey eyes were dancing with mirth as he held his sides in laughter and the guards at the doors were doing their best to chuckle under their breaths, although she could still hear them quite clearly.

"That was Fergus' doing", Aífe growled and turned to look back at the door.

"No vengeance before supper", her father warned her, chuckles still erupting now and again from his tall frame.

"Vengeance - Who? Me?", she asked innocently, trying her best to hide the twitching of her fingers at the delightfully diabolic ideas that were forming in her mind. Not _before_ supper, he had said.

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**Author's Note**: Just some bits and pieces, scenes of Aífe's life at Highever before the Blight, hopefully giving a better insight on my take of the Cousland family and on my Aífe Cousland and the character and background I have built around her in my head. Thanks to **BeautifulApparition** for reading over this one and checking it for me, so I don't have TOO many mistakes in here. Thanks of course also to all of you, who read and enjoy this. :)


	2. Fun and Consequences

**Fun and Consequence**

"Look who's here, Oren! Your favorite Auntie, isn't she? Yes she is! Yes she is!", Fergus cooed at his son, showing him a goofy smile and swaying him back and forth in his hands.

Aífe looked up from her letter at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise as she saw her brother approach with her nephew in his out-stretched hands. The little boy was gurgling with joy, stretching out his stubby little fingers towards his father, who had by now blown up his cheeks like a frog.

"I genuinely hope he has Oriana's features, I really do", Aífe murmured as she watched the antics of her older brother, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "But she's a mean little sister, let me tell you, Oren! Isn't she? She is! Oh, yeah, she is!", Fergus kept bubbling to his son, not even looking at Aífe as he leaned against her desk, this time sucking in his cheeks to make a duck face. Oren seemed even more delighted by this, because he was giggling like a little madman, waving his arms excitedly. Only after some moments the little boy registered Aífe and turned towards her, his blues eyes twinkling with joy as he squealed his greeting, stretching out an arm towards her.

With a smile she put aside the quill and offered him her own hand and he immediately wrapped his fingers around her pinky, drooling in obvious contentment. Aífe moved her arm to the side to evade a string of slobber, watching it drop onto the floor, before her eyes darted back to him. "Maybe you should tell your father, that he can talk to you without sounding like a madman, hm? And then tell him to get you a napkin, because you drool like you've seen cookies", she told Oren and he giggled some more.

"Despite your nefarious nature, I thought you might want to spend some quality time with your nephew", Fergus told her with a pout and she rolled her eyes, getting up from her chair to take the baby. As she did so, she noticed her brother's mabari Chase standing just outside her door. The dog sneezed and lowered her head, backing away a bit more. Wrinkling her brows, Aífe let her already outstretched arms sink and looked father and son over carefully. "Where's Oriana?", she asked and Fergus offered her a dazzling smile, moving to block her view of his hound. "She went to the village with mother, they will be back in the evening", he answered without dropping the smile. Aífe narrowed her eyes at him, bending to the side to look at Chase again, who avoided to lock eyes with her, backing away even more. Slowly Aífe looked back at her nephew and sniffed the air, then took some steps back herself.

"He pooped, didn't he?", she inquired and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Fergus smile dropped and made way for a nervous grin as he offered her Oren once more. "No", he said far too quickly and then sighed, "Well, maybe a little."

"I", she clarified with emphasis, "won't change him. You can very well do that yourself. He's your son." Fergus changed tactics, moving closer as he looked at her with big, sad eyes. "Please? Mother and Oriana are not here…", he asked again and she quickly got out of his way. "Not a chance", she let him know and waved off his next attempt.

"Tell you what, Fergus… you had the fun, you have the poop", she clarified and watched him turn his back on her, grumbling all the way on his way towards the door. As he set eyes on Chase, he heaved an irritated sigh which elicited a quizzical whine from the hound. "It would have worked, if you weren't such a terrible liar!" The mabari uttered a protesting bark, following her master in quite some distance as he made his way back to his own room.

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**Author's Note**: Inspired by my dear little cousins, whom I love dearly, but... well. Let's just say I'm happy that we're far away from that phase now. LOL Ah, Fergus has much to learn if he wants to get Aífe to change diapers for him... and next time he probably shouldn't involve his mabari in the plan. Hope you like this one, too, unfortunately it is un-beta-ed, but I hope that the next once will again be proof-read so I don't overdose you on mistakes/strange expressions. I can't quite decide whom the next one should feature... :/ Hope you had fun reading! :)


	3. Loopholes

_**Loopholes**_

Rubbing his tired eyes, Bryce Cousland made his way up from the main hall to the living quarters of the castle. He crossed the small courtyard and found his way without even looking properly, knowing the way blindly. Only when the exhausting huffing following close behind became louder did he slow down a bit and turn to look at his companion, who seemed to have some problems with the step way up to the higher parts of the castle.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think of how this parts gives you some trouble, my old friend", Bryce said with a warm smile and crouched down. He put his hand on the head of the old mabari hound, stroking over its brow forward to its snout. The animal shook its head and rolled his tongue back into his muzzle, giving his master a stern look. When the dog cocked his head to the side just a bit and gave a heavy huff, Bryce knew he was being scolded.

"Now, now, don't look at me like that. I can see the grey around your muzzle very well, Ser, and it isn't getting less", he told the hound and stroked his hand back over the giant head, down the back and towards the spot just above the tail that always seemed to need some scratching. The mabari was not so easily distracted, however, and uttered a conversational bark as he shifted his eyes to Bryce's hair. He let his tongue slip out again, licking his chops with half-closed eyes. It was the equivalent of a laugh as Bryce knew well enough, just as he knew he was being laughed at. "No need to get mean. I know very well that I have grey in _my_ hair. But I'm raising two pups that, before long, will make me _all_ grey. Come now, Eleanor is waiting and it has been a long day", he answered the dog and patted its side before he got up and moved up towards the next door, slower this time. They passed through the first door and the second and Bryce already had his hand on his bedroom's door when he heard it.

_Maaaaa-aaaaa._

The old hound's ears twitched as he shifted to look around and the Teryn stopped in his tracks as well. Both waited, but there was no other sound. With a shrug Bryce turned to push the door open and the mabari moved past him into the room. His eyes fell on his wife, who was sitting close to the table, on which a few candles were lit. She had a piece of cloth on her hand, apparently embroidering it currently. Her face was serene and as she looked up with a smile, there was a certain gleam in her eyes that Bryce knew all too well. He opened his mouth to say something, but then there was the sound again.

_Maaaaaa-aaaa._

It definitely didn't come from the bedroom, but from one of the rooms close-by. With a scowl Bryce walked back to the door and sure enough, the sound could be heard again, this time even louder and more urgent. Then there was whispering, too quiet to understand it. He turned back to his wife, who had returned her attention to her handiwork, but the smile remained on her lips. "Did you hear that…?", he asked finally, but only received an even wider smile in return. With a sigh he left the room and listened closely.

_Maaaaaaaa-aaaa._

It came from his daughter's room, he was sure of that now. His mabari strolled past him, nose to the floor as he moved towards Aífe's room, where he stopped, putting his muzzle to the door. Bryce opened the door carefully, peeking into the room. Only a single candle was burning on her nightstand, but it was enough to see that she was lying in her bed, just as she should be. It was also enough to make out the source of the noise. Squinting his eyes at his daughter, Bryce opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted quiet loudly.

"_Maaaaaaa-aaaa_!"

It was then that his daughter looked up, disheveled and with big eyes. Strands of hair had escaped from her poorly-made braid and her nightgown seemed much too large, swallowing her almost whole. She blinked surprised, then smiled at him sweetly. "Hello, Papa!", she greeted him warmly, as though nothing was wrong. As though she did not do something wrong right now and knew it.

"Aífe", he said wearily and moved into the room, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Yes, Papa?", she inquired and giggled a bit when a tiny hoof was put on her thigh.

"Why is there a lamb in your bed?", Bryce asked, very slowly and carefully. The animal was currently trying to settle down in the big bed, probably it had already come to terms with its fate and was now searching for the most comfortable spot. There were bits of straw all around the room and an empty bottle right next to a book on the small table in the corner.

Aífe looked him, lips pressed together. Then she looked away. She was never able to hold his gaze for very long. "Why do you ask?", she wanted to know, not answering and he sighed, looking at his hound. The old mabari had walked right up to the bed and was sniffing the lamb now, only making it _Maaaaaa-aaa_ in indignation.

"Because you cannot just bring a lamb into your room and much less your bed, Aífe. They are animals that belong in a stable. Neither I nor your mother have you allowed this, pup!", he said as sternly as he could and shook his head. She looked at him again, lips still pressed together defiantly.

"Actually", she said, "Mama just told me I wasn't allowed to bring a horse to my room. Or a chicken. Or the little pigs. She said nothing about lambs." As soon as she had said it, her eyes locked onto the door behind him. He could see her ears and cheeks reddening as she intertwined her fingers. Bryce shook his head again, moving to the bed so he could pick up the lamb. "Well, you're also not allowed to bring lambs to your room", he said and already walked towards the door, the lamb wiggling in his arms and Aífe's eyes fixed at his back.

"What about goats?", she asked and he stopped in his tracks, looking back over his shoulders. "No goats", he clarified. "In fact, also no hares. Or whatever else you might find in the castle or around the castle or at the beach or anywhere else." He thought there was a heavy sigh when he closed the door behind him.

"And people wonder why I have grey hair", he muttered and left the living quarters again, making his way to the stable.

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Because Aífe will notice any loopholes that are left. And Bryce sometimes doesn't. In this case, for example, he has left her a giant one. :D

Sadly, I still don't have a beta and also not much time for writing, but I hope it will get better soon, so I can update "Dogs are people too" and maybe start to publish the little A/U DragonAge Fic I started writing, in which I try something hopefully pretty new. :)


	4. Lessons of Life

**Author's Note:  
><strong>Another little moment of young Aífe's life. I still don't have anybody to check my stories before I put them online, so I'm sorry for mistakes. This time there's a little cameo from one of our favourite boys, I guess most of you will be able to guess who it is. :) And as a sidenote: Both lessons of this story are true.

**Lessons of Life**

There are some lessons in life, that one must learn rather sooner than later. Aífe had already collected a fair amount of those lessons – don't touch the pretty flowers without checking whether they have thorns, don't eat anything your brother brings you without checking whether it has dirt or bugs or spinach somewhere in it and don't ask if you don't want to hear the answer. There were, however, many more to commit to memory.

One such lesson is the fact, that most people have a sadistic streak, no matter how well hidden. This includes your family. This includes even your father and your mother. It especially includes your brother.

Another such lesson, probably less well known, is that swans are inherently evil. The white feathers and that fluffy look? Just an act. Aífe had to come to both these conclusions rather quickly.

It all started rather innocently, she had to admit. A visit of Redcliff Castle and Lake Calenhad in winter came to its end and Bryce Cousland had decided to surprise his family with a special event – he took them all down to a quiet bay of the lake, where a pair of swans had their wintering grounds. Armed with quite a few pieces of old bread he led them closer and crouched down finally, not more than a few meters away from them.

"Do you know what these are?", he had asked his children and cast them a quick smile back over his shoulder. "Birds?", Fergus countered with not uncertain amount of disinterest, picking at the piece of bread in his hands. "Swans!", Aífe corrected her big brother triumphantly and carefully etched closer towards her father. She gripped his cloak when she was close enough and peered over his shoulder. The pair was still swimming in the lake, their dark eyes watching them carefully as they slowly paddled closer. "Aldous showed me pictures last winter. They're swans, right?", she asked then. She had never seen them before in Highever – there were flocks of seagulls and even puffins and many other birds, but never swans. "Yes, pup", Bryce answered and grinned, ripping of a piece of bread and throwing it in the water. In a matter of moments the bigger of the birds had swallowed it with one big gulp. "Around Lake Calenhad there are many islands and bays in which swans have their wintering grounds. People come and feed them bread sometime, they're used to it by now", he explained and threw another breadcrumb that vanished as fast as the first one.

"It's cold out here", Fergus complained and sighed when his mother shot him a side-glance as she stepped closer to throw the swans some of her bread, too. "I'm sure you will survive, dear", she assured him and he shrugged, obviously still discontent. "A bit more enthusiasm, my son. You break your old man's heart", Bryce said, wiping an invisible tear from his cheek.

Fergus gave him a long, quiet look before he threw his arms in the air: "Eureka! Birds! I've never seen birds before! Look, they're so white and so beautiful and oh, is that… look, they have _wings_!" He even managed to sound a tiny bit genuine.

Aífe ignored him completely and moved past her father to break a piece off her own bread and throw it to the birds. It landed in the shallow water and only after some hesitation, one of the swans came out of the water to get it. Aífe threw another piece of bread and the swan waddled forward to get it, much to her delight. "They look so beautiful!", she exclaimed and drilled her finger into the bread without taking her eyes from the bird. It was big – almost as big as she herself was – and seemed majestic from head to toe. As she threw it another crumb, it moved towards it, shook its tail feathers and Aífe grinned. Up until the point it didn't stop moving after it had picked up the bread. The girl waited for a moment, unsure what this meant, but as the swan came closer, it just seemed to be getting bigger. She took a step backwards and then another one, but the bird did not stop. It did, in fact, increase its waddling speed, if anything. It took Aífe all of one second to decide that the swan was too close and too big and not fluffy at all and then she turned around and started running. She could here an indignant grunt not far behind her and swiftly darted behind a tree, peering around it curiously. The swan still didn't stop.

"Papa!", she exclaimed with a tiny bit of panic and sprinted over some rocks along the bank of the lake, trying to shake off her pursuer. The bird, however, was rather determined to catch her, and kept up with her with outspread wings and surprising waddling speed. Aífe darted sideways, arms outstretched for balance, and made a bee-line for her family and safety. Same family, however, was busy laughing. It wasn't the sort of quiet smile that paints a parent's face when they watch the antics of their children. It wasn't even the fond chuckle of a person watching somebody dear do something rather unwise. All three of them were shaking in their boots with laughter, hands on their bellies and tears in their eyes.

"Mama!", Aífe tried again wide-eyed and still running, swishing past the second swan that had joined its partner by now. Surely her mother would help, her dear, dear mother, who never failed to give her a hug and was supposed to love her and cherish her and protect her. Her dear, dear mother who was hardly able formulate a word. "Dear, just… just..", Eleanor tried to say, but had to give up when Fergus gave a bark of laughter when the second swan all but cut off her escape route. Her father was using a hand to steady himself by now and tried to hide his giggling with the other, but was rather unsuccessful at it.

It was then that Aífe learned the first lesson of the day. People are sadistic and not to be trusted. Even if they are your family. Especially if they are your family. With one last glare at the three of them, she decided to do the only sensible thing: To run for cover towards the village. Surely she'd be safe once she reached a house or stable. She had, of course, considered climbing a tree, but she was horrible at climbing trees and would sooner break a leg than escape the angry birds. So instead, she kept running up until the point she rounded the next tree and almost crashed headlong into a boy. As she skidded to a halt, he turned around, his whiskey-colored eyes wide open in surprise. His trousers looked muddy and he had flat stones in his left hand. He stared at her for a moment and uttered a surprised grunt as she grabbed his arm without further ado, pulling him along as she jumped over the log of a fallen tree. "Run!", she shouted, painfully aware of the grunting swans not all that far behind.

He dropped the stones and stumbled along behind her, ears and cheeks tinged red from either cold or maybe embarrassment. "Why?", he finally asked and tried to slow down. Aífe just kept running and didn't let go off his arm. He slowed her down quite a bit and she could already see the bigger of the birds closing in. "Because…!", she started to say and stopped herself, unsure what to tell him. It was quite obvious, wasn't it? "Because of the swans!", she finally snapped. He sent her an utterly bewildered look and then squinted at her. "What's with them?", he asked and tried to stop once again. "They're following me!", she hissed and let go off him, quickly climbing atop a larger stone to keep an eye out for the two birds. They had slowed down now, but still kept coming. They didn't seem particularly angry, but they were big and they were grunting and there were _two_ of them.

The boy looked up to her, rubbing his arm where she had grabbed him, and then he glanced at the two swans. He didn't seem to concerned, he didn't even try to get to safety. He just shifted his eyes to her again. "You could drop the bread", he suggested, very warily.

It was only then that Aífe realized that she was indeed still holding her piece of bread in her hand, by now in a much worse condition than before her flight attempt. She had probably lost a good deal of crumbs on the run – or at least that would explain why one of the swans had its head behind some tree and didn't seem too interested in her anymore. The other one, though, was still looking at her. Pressing her lips together she threw the whole bread away towards him and took a step back, eyes never leaving the animal. It stopped and shook its tail feathers again in obvious satisfaction as it bent to pick at the bread.

"Uhm…", Aífe said and turned to look at the boy again. He stood very still and watched her more carefully than she had watched the swans, as though she was prone to do something crazy. The awkward silence grew and Aífe shifted her weight slightly. "Well, then", she said finally and jumped down from the stone. She wasn't quite sure if she should thank him – she would have thought of dropping the bread on her own, eventually. "The weather's nice, isn't it?", she asked finally and a confused look crossed over his face. "What?", he inquired and lifted a hand to rub the back of his head, eyes never leaving hers. "I'm making conversation", she explained and came closer, careful to keep out of the swans path. The bird, however, had concluded by now that without bread she was of no interest and started to waddle back to the lake.

"Sorry you lost your stones", she tried again since he obviously wasn't interested in discussing the weather. "Oh", he said and shrugged his shoulders, "It's okay. I was just skimming stones. Sorry you lost your bread." She nodded gracefully as she answered: "It's okay. I wanted to feed it to the swans anyways." That statement, however, only made him raise an eyebrow at her. "Then why did you run away from them?", he asked curiously and started to go back to the water. She followed, hands folded behind her back and heat creeping up her neck. "It's complicated", she simply answered after some time. Her answer was a quiet chuckle as he bent down to start looking for new stones. "They're swans. They don't hurt people", he said without looking at her and she glared at him. When he didn't react, she glared a bit more, before she crouched down next to him, trying to find some stones for him. "They're evil", she muttered and decided to ignore the fact that he was grinning just for this once.


	5. True Sportsmanship

**Sportsmanship**

„Stop gloating", Fergus snapped at her. He was glaring at her openheartedly now, having forsaken his more subtle attempts of withering side glances. It did nothing to stop Aífe from grinning like a madwoman, if anything it only made the grin grow even bigger.

At this point, it would have been fair to assume that her ego had taken colossal proportions that might in the not too distant future create a gravitational field of its own. While this could potentially result in earthquakes, floods and even more aggravation from Fergus and other bystanders, she simply could not help it. She snickered quietly to herself and even dared to wink at her big brother, who huffed in annoyance.

"It is not becoming to be so maliciously joyful when your older brother is wounded", he berated her in another try to save what was left of his self-respect. "Awww", Aífe said and even fully turned to face him and show him the brightest smile she had worn in weeks. "Is it really _you_ that is hurt, Fergus, or might that be your pride?", she inquired with interest.

He grumbled and finally gave up the struggle to remain standing as they waited for the other teams, letting himself drop onto a larger stone and stretching his left leg out with a sigh.

"I'm hurt", he repeated, "and I think my ankle might be broken."

At that she cast him a glance and furrowed her eyebrows at him, studying him for a moment before she answered: "Your ankle is not broken. If your ankle were broken, you would be screaming of pain right now. You would also not have been able to hobble all the way from the trees to over here. As a matter of fact, if your ankle were broken, you would not even have been able to crawl back uphill to the meeting point." While his expression was a bit pained, he did not even look paler than usual or show any signs of shock. That, combined with a intimate knowledge of the inner workings of her brother, led her to believe that neither his ankle nor any other part of him was, in fact, seriously damaged. Except for maybe his pride.

He pulled a face and averted his eyes from her, mumbling something inaudible to himself, before he said: "Don't ruin my pathos with your reason."

"Come on, don't be such a drama queen", she scolded him and rolled her eyes, setting down her backpack. "You and Eryhn did really well. I mean, think of it. You were the first ones to finish the obstacle course and even the race to the first clue. You were in front of us in the scavenger hunt through the forest and fast in both the swim to the island and the finding of the last clue – and you two took the cliffs pretty well", she told him and also looked at the woman standing to her side.  
>Eryhn had moved a bit away from the Cousland siblings, arms crossed in front of her chest und eyes narrowed as she was staring at an innocent little rock that had made the unfortunate mistake of being in her line of sight. At Aífe's words, the lady-knight turned around and shot her a quick glare from under furrowed eyebrows. "Yes, we did", she almost snapped and turned away again, huffing and puffing.<p>

It was probably the very fact that Eryhn could not find the least bit of fun in the recent happenings (or perhaps just morbid curiosity on how mottled and red Ser Roland Gilmore could get), but Aífe found it quite impossible to stop at this point.

She went the extra few steps to move next to Roland and threw an arm around him, which sounded easier than it was. Originally she had aimed for his shoulders, but they were far too high up to reach them comfortably, so she settled for his waist, which only served to make him cringe even more.

"Och, now. You don't need to mope, none of you should", she told Fergus and Eryhn, blinking innocently at them. "Just because my dear brother fell flat on his face during the very last sprint... I mean, if he hadn't dripped over that tiny little stone, lost his balance, gone down with a girly shriek and taken Roland down with him – and if I may, dear brother, it was a fantastic display. Almost like an axe might cut down a tender little tree… In any case, had none of that happened, I would probably not have outrun all of you. The time it took Ser Eryhn to stop gawking at the two of you, hopelessly entangled like a pair of malfunctioning snails, I was able to overtake all of you and reach the finish line before she did. One might state that without your all out bodily dedication to this little tournament, Fergus, I would never have been able to cross the finish line first. I mean, think of it… this was the only way in which Roland and me could have won this year's Cliff Race! Amazing, isn't it?"

Fergus stared at her for a long moment, before he narrowed his eyes at her and uttered a very quiet "I hate you". She giggled and could not resist the temptation to ruffle his hair after she had moved away from Roland, making him swat her hand away like it was an annoying fly.

She could see Roland flush and avert his gaze quickly, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. His fiery red hair was standing in all directions and he had a scratch on his cheek. His trousers were ripped in three different places and one sleeve of his tunic was only hanging onto the rest by a thread. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Aífe", he said a bit desperately. "Let's just say we both won. You were in front of us, after all, up until the last part. Nobody needs to know what happened, aye?", he suggested finally with a hopeful smile that withered as soon as he caught sight of Aífe's continuous smirk.

It was then that Ser Eryhn turned around and pressed her lips together, probably still indecisive of whether she should demand a rerun or try to be calm about the whole incident. "No, you won fair and square. Ser Gregoir has already recorded it at the finish line. Aífe was the first to arrive before me or Fergus, that makes you the winning team", she said, clearly still fighting to accept that fact. "She is right, I should not have stopped and looked. I should just have kept running", she concluded.

Both Fergus and Roland looked rather unhappy with that reasoning, but only the older Cousland felt brave enough to voice his doubt about that particular conclusion.

"You know", Fergus drawled, "when a normal person hears cries of pain and distress, they stop to lend aid. They don't laugh. They especially don't laugh until they almost cry."

Aífe knew full well that he was actually just addressing her, because Eryhn had at least had the decency to ask them whether they were okay before she burst out laughing. Of course Eryhn had quickly controlled herself, helping Fergus up. Eryhn was by far too controlled for her own good. Aífe, on the other hand, had kept running even as she gawked and laughed at them and thus reached Ser Gregoir, their referee before anybody else had. She still felt the giggles rise in her chest at the thought of the entangled men – and to be honest, she hadn't really tried to keep them contained at any point.

"Probably. But that normal person wouldn't have had nearly as much fun as I did. And that normal person wouldn't have won", she gave him to think.

Fergus mulled it over for a while and looked up at her then. "I still hate you", he let her know and averted his eyes. "That's alright", she said brightly and smiled at Roland, who was trying to hold onto his sleeve, "I still have Roland." At that the knight looked up with an almost frightened look in his eyes.

"Be afraid", Fergus said gloomily, "Be very afraid."

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**Author's Comment: **Yes, Aífe doesn't have sportmanship when it comes to things like that. Especially not when her big brother is involved. Especially, especially not if it means she would give up such a chance. :D This came kind of out of nowhere, but I'd imagine the young warriors to have some kind of contest, that tests their various abilities - and well, the Cliff Race is my version of it.  
>Also: Yes, Roland. Be afraid. I will not guarantee for your safety.<p> 


	6. idiot,the: an utterly senseless person

**idiot, the: and utterly foolish and senseless person**

Fergus found the shade of red his sister had turned was quite remarkable. Aífe was huffing and puffing and was doing an admirable effort of setting Ser Gilmore aflame with her glare. An effort that was utterly in vain, for Roland seemed unfazed by both her wrath and the way she was stalking towards him. For somebody so small she surely made herself look big and angry enough to down any unsuspecting victim. Such as Roland.

Fergus took a step backwards, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a sigh. He kept his face neutral and tried to somehow maneuver himself between them, but she simply put a hand on his shoulder and rudely shoved him to the side, planting herself in front of the knight.

"What were you _thinking_?", she snapped and poked her finger against Roland's chest. She did not even pause long enough to wait for an answer, but instead stepped even closer and spread her arms out in a wide, all-encompassing gesture. "You don't throw yourself in front of maces or swords or axes or anything else that is sharp, pointed or can be used to smash your bones! It is simply not done! You and I, we had the same teachers and I'm pretty sure during at least some of those very, very many lessons you were actually paying attention. What were we told? Right! We were told to never – never ever – take blows for comrades. We defend them, we help them, we do not bodily insert ourselves between a weapon and a comrade. Because, you know what? Because it is stupid! You can distract an enemy, you can cut him down or gut him. You can even dance the Remigold and dress in frill dresses to throw him off his game, but you do not use your body!"

She was back to poking Roland's chest by now and Fergus dared to take his eyes off her and cast the knight a glance out of the corner of his eyes. At first he seemed like he was about to back away, but he kept his ground and leveled his gaze at the offending appendix. For a moment Fergus thought he would just take it and remove it from his general vicinity, especially after that muscle in his jaw started to twitch. Apparently, however, the knight decided against that course of action and instead waited for the tirade to end.

"And you know why that is the general rule?", Aífe asked. A purely rhetorical question, because she did not even take the time for an artistic pause, but instead kept talking: "Because if you do something as stupid as that, it will result in two wounded soldiers instead of one and make both an easy target – or it might lead to an even more severe wound than your comrade would have received. Stepping in front of an attack, is idiotic and stupid and harebrained and on top of it…!"

It was at that point that she seemed to run out of adjectives, because she took a short moment to consider her options, before she finally settled for the one that fitted her best. "And on top of it foolish!", she ended finally and took a small step back. When her eyes landed on the knight's bandaged arm, her frown deepened and her nose wrinkled. Roland was holding his arm close to his body and was still pale. The flesh-wound on his upper arm had been cleaned, but the shoulder had been dislocated and had only been set an hour ago. He had suffered a severe blow to his leg, which was also bandaged, and there were still clumps of blood in his hair and the bruise on his jaw was starting to turn purple. Still, the warrior seemed pretty calm, all things considered.

"I will let you in on a little secret", Aífe bit out at long last, sarcasm dripping from her lips, "You are, in fact, a man. _Not_ a shield." She made a very short pause to let her words sink in. "I might have been in danger, yes. It was a close call, yes. That does not mean you just step in front of me and use your body to shield me. If I had wanted dislocated shoulders, almost broken jaws, ripped open thighs and blood all over the place, I could very well have danced into the way of that rotten, Maker-forsaken mace myself", she bit out and underlined her words with another glare. Apparently catching sight of his wounds had just given her new fuel and fury.

"Your bones are not more unbreakable than mine, wounds hurt no less on you, blades and maces don't distinguish between big, tall, stupid idiots and me. Do not put yourself in front of me to make up for my mistakes. _Do not ever take my wounds for me_!", she growled and seemed to have, at long last, run out of things to say.

Roland stood before her defiantly with his unwounded hand balled to a fist, his jaw set firm and his green eyes blazing with at least equal fury. Fergus could tell by the twitching muscles in Roland's jaw and the squared shoulders that the warrior was very close to answering with an equally lengthy tirade.

Fergus sighed and closed his eyes briefly. When father had told him to take care of the castle, he had thought of many things, but surely not of the responsibility of keeping Aífe from strangling her own knight. Or the other way round. He was not sure which would cause more uproar. He put his hand on Aífe's shoulder, but she did not even seem to fully register it.

"With all due respect", Roland finally gritted out and cut Aífe off just as she was about to continue her tirade. Fergus sighed. Stupid brats. Both of them. "You do not seem to comprehend the function of a _knight_", he said then, very slowly and pressed. She paused and blinked and for a mere moment Fergus thought that maybe, just maybe, she was finally inclined to consider Roland's point of view. That it was Roland's duty to protect her if he could, even if it meant harm and pain. Then, however, she drew her brows together, put her hands in her hips and directed a glare at the warrior that would have sent lesser men running for cover.

"With all due respect", she retorted with a tone just as pressed as his, "You do not seem to comprehend the function of a _shield_."

At that point the knight took a step towards her, standing so close that she had to look up at him, his head inclined just a bit as he looked at her. "There was no time for a refined maneuver. I tried to bring my shield up, but he was too close for that. It was necessary. I am-", he started to explain, but she simply waved him off.

"_It was idiotic_! You are the most stupid and harebrained and idiotic and stubborn oaf I've ever met!", she barked and Fergus squeezed her shoulder to stop her from going even further.

"Aífe, calm down. And don't use that kind of language", he admonished, even though that was probably the least of the problems in this conversation. He dared to raise his gaze to look at the knight, who had broken eye-contact and averted his gaze to the floor. His hand was still balled to a fist and he swallowed heavily, undoubtedly awaiting the final onslaught. Fergus could have sworn Aífe bristled even more and in hindsight, he should have ended this far sooner than he actually had, but he had never seen her this furious and upset. He certainly hadn't seen her unceasingly poking somebody's chest and ready to throttle anything that attracted her attention.

"Language?", she hissed and Fergus winced when she slid him a side-glance. "Fine, tu es incroyablement stupide! Sûrement la personne la plus idiote et débile que j'ai jamais rencontrée, espéce d'imbécile!" With that she tried to yank her arm free, but Fergus held firm and pulled her against his chest, effectively stopping her little adventure into the Orlesian language for the moment.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. "Now, you are both still very excited from that skirmish. It is best you sleep a night over this and then continue this discussion, when you have both calmed down and thought about it", he suggested finally and threw Roland only a brief glance, before he fixed his gaze on Aífe. His sister did not even look at him, her eyes were still trained on the knight, her snarl still in place, and for a moment he was not sure she had even been listened. "Aífe", he called softly and waited until she finally looked at him. "You will regret saying these things tomorrow. Stop it, before you go too far. Think it over. Try to be objective. This is unworthy of both of you", he told her and inclined his head towards the stairs leading up to their private bedchambers.

He could see how she was considering his words, turning them around in her head. Her gaze left his for a moment and she looked back at Roland, who stood still like a statue, shoulders still squared, returning her look without even blinking. The moment grew longer and longer. Fergus thought about stepping in between the two of them, so they would need to break eye contact – but that would have been as bright an idea as putting himself between two battering rams. He cast a quick glance up to the battlements, where suddenly many more guards were patrolling than he had actually assigned to guard duty. Maybe he could get one of them to get a bucket of cold water. It worked on _dogs_. Maybe it would work on these two.

"My point is, that I do not want you to get, just because you feel the idiotic and suicidal urge to throw yourself between me and danger. I will not accept this, do you hear me? You will never do this again!", Aífe finally barked and turned around, as though her command was not to be questioned by anyone. She had nearly reached the steps and Fergus had already allowed himself to relax a little bit, when Roland decided to break his silence. That damn brat.

"I am your _knight_. It is my duty to protect you and your family. I am here to make sure no harm comes to you as long as there is still a single breath left in me. My body is your shield. My arm is your weapon", the knight said and kept his gaze trained on her back. "I will not stop doing this, because this is my duty. I am your knight and your shield. I am here to keep you safe with everything I have, even if it is my life."

Aífe froze on the first step, her hands sinking to her sides as she stood there and drew a deep and shaky breath, before she slowly turned around. Her grey eyes landed on Roland and Fergus was already moving towards her, grabbing her arm as she took a step in the knight's direction. She all but growled by now, but Fergus could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Then I don't need a stupid knight! I don't need a stupid shield and I don't need a stupid weapon! Least of all I need stupid you!", she bit out. Roland shook his head and suddenly there was a smile on his face. He raised the healthy armed and ran it through his hair with a sigh. "I know, Aífe", he said softly, "You don't need to like it. You don't even need to accept it. I'm not here to please you, I'm here to keep you as safe as I can." His smile was calm and he unclenched his fist, taking a step towards her.  
>Aífe grit out a sound that was not really resembling any word in any of the languages Fergus knew and turned around, taking two steps at a time in her hasty retreat. With a last glance at Roland, who seemed entirely too calm and too satisfied with himself, Fergus turned to follow his sister.<p>

Two weeks later Ser Roland Gilmore found a new set of armor on an armor-stand right next to his bed. It was Heavy Chainmail and engraved into the chest plate was something in Orlesian, he could not translate. He didn't dare to ask for help, either.

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**Author's Note**: Many, many thanks to my lovely friend, Emma, who helped quite a bit with this one. =) Especially by making sure the French translation is actually coherent and making sense this way and for reading over this. Thank you!  
>This has been sitting in my folders unfinished for quite a bit, until I dusted it off this weekend and reworked it. Hope you liked it! =)<p> 


	7. A Proper Lady

**A Proper Lady**

Aífe sits with her hands folded demurely in her lap and her back straight, a spitting image of her mother right next to her. She is wearing her new dress – Orlesian silk, a smoky blue that brings out her eyes, her mother says – and has her hair braided and pinned up. Her feet are, unfortunately, stuck in Orlesian shoes that fit the dress well and that made her almost tip over twice on her way over. Thankfully, her father had offered her his elbow and walked next to her after the first time. She takes care to keep them firm on the ground in a 90° angle, just like her mother. Crossing her legs is improper, she is told.

Her mabari is sitting just to her side, ears perked up and tongue lolling out as he turns to look at her. His tiny stump of a tail is wagging and he offers her one of his doggy smiles. She can tell that he has a hard time sitting still and being quiet and is surprised that he actually has managed to hold himself down for so long. Grimm is, after all, only a bit more than 7 months old and can barely stand to stay still for more than just a few minutes at a time. Perhaps her mother has spoken to him. Or perhaps she has just _looked_ at him. Yes, Mama could have that kind of effect.

Aífe cuts her eyes to her mother, who has a smile on her face as she talks to one of Arl Bryland's daughters – a pretty girl with sparkling green eyes, a quiet voice and a sweet smile. Next to the girl are her two younger sisters, both only in their early teenage years and both so very careful to sit like a proper lady and imitate Eleanor Cousland. They are wearing pretty dresses and seem awfully proud of it.

Aífe cannot help but think that perhaps there is something wrong with her, because honestly, these shoes are pretty but terrible and sitting like this gives her cramps and if she could, she would wear her fur lined boots, no matter how ugly and worn out they are. Also, there is a muscle in her thigh twitching and it just won't stop. She wrinkles her nose in thought and turns her gaze back to the two warriors in the field before them. Both have seen better times and are breathing hard, but neither one of them is willing to stop. They advance again and as one bashes his shield against his opponent, the other one brings down his gigantic sword in a fell swoop that extracts such a loud noise upon hitting metal that Aífe can feel a chill creeping down her spine.

"I am betting 50 silver on the knight from Gwaren!", her father says behind her and as she turns to look, she can see that he is grinning like a little boy. He has moved forward and is standing close behind her, a cup of wine in his hand and eyes shining with joy. "Come on!", protests Fergus in that moment, who is sitting right next to her. "We both know Gwaren will win this one! That guy is from Teryn Loghain's houseguard!" She presses her lips together and looks back at the contestants. It does not last long, after all – the knight from Gwaren manages to get his component to his knees and announce his surrender and the crowd cheers for him. The last one to qualify for the semi-finals.

While Aífe politely claps, she is much too distracted looking over the sidelines of the field to really pay attention. She knows that Roland will be the next one in and that he had suffered a mean hit in his last battle, even though he could defeat his opponent in the end. Leaning forward she discreetly scoots forward a bit to see better, but cannot find him in the crowd.

"Do not frown, Aífe, and sit straight", Eleanor admonishes her and she sighs deeply and reverts back to her previous position. "This is uncomfortable", she protests, but her words are only answered by a raised eyebrow and a look that makes her shut her mouth as all further words will be a waste of breath.

As Roland's opponent enters the field and bows to the king and the queen and then to the rest of the nobility, her mother quickly puts a hand on her back and corrects her position just the tiniest bit. "That is Ser Danal of the Arl of Denerim's house. He has been appointed to Captain of the Guard last year and has shown great potential", her mother starts to explain, "He is only 22 years old and the son of Lord Tarnis…"

Aífe is oblivious to the rest of her mother's words as Ser Danal steps into the middle of the field and raises his shield with the heraldry of Denerim high. The applause is deafening and she can see the Arl of Denerim smiling as he nods towards his valued knight.

Only as the applause finally dies down, she spots Roland's fiery red hair as he enters the field slowly and purposefully. She can see how he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment before he puts on his helmet. He is nervous and his hands are shaking as he takes his sword and shield from his squire and turns to bow to the royal family and then to the rest of the nobles.

"There he is", Fergus says and grins at a friend of his, who hands him a cup of wine. "He looks a bit flustered."

"It is his first time in such a big tournament and he made it very far, he did good. He has all right to be flustered", her father defends the knight and waits for just the fraction of a moment before he turns to Arl Bryland and Bann Sighard. "My 50 silvers say that Ser Gilmore wins!"

"Bryce!", Eleanor says and Aífe can hear the laughter in her mother's voice, despite the stern look she is shooting her husband.

"What? I am having faith in our young knight", Bryce answers and gives his very best impression of a serious man. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes betrays that effort, though, and Arl Bryland shakes his head. "You just want to win your money back from the first round. But fine, I will take that bet. Your knight is good, but Ser Danal has seen battle and has been in this tournament for the third time already."

Fergus gives them both a long look, before he crosses his arms in front of his chest and nods: "I am joining in on that with 10 silver on Gilmore." Aífe quickly pokes him in the side and makes a silent gesture that her mother cannot see. "15 silver, I mean." Another poke. "20. 20 silver on Ser Gilmore." Bann Sighard joins in and it is not soon before his son Oswyn has placed his bet as well.

As Roland joins the other knight on the field and raises his shield with Highever's heraldry, her hound whimpers at her feet and all but howls at the frustration to not be allowed to stand up and run right out onto the field. The stand holding Highever's noble families erupts into clapping and cheering and Aífe can feel the unreasonable feeling of pride bubble forth in her chest as she applauds him and grins like an idiot.

Her father hoots from where he is sitting and Eleanor casts him a glance that goes either unnoticed or is ignored, because Bryce is not even trying to stop grinning. Fergus raises his arm in a salute to Roland and the knight bangs his sword one time sharp against his shield, nodding towards them.

"That boy surprises me every time", Bryce grins and leans back again. "He is good for his age", Fergus nods and leans forward to put his arms on the railing. "I just hope he will not get too anxious to win. Danal will use any opening he can find."

"What are you talking about?", Aífe snaps and glares at her brother, "Roland can absolutely take him!" Fergus turns to her and raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again after a glance at their mother and instead motions towards the two knight taking positions. "But he did take a bad hit in his last fight and it is his first tournament of this scale. I am just saying that his success is not assured, there is the chance of him being defeated, Aífe, and it is not a bad thing."

"Well, he will not be", Aífe persists and turns to look at them again. They are standing just a few feet apart, facing each other, and when the horn is blown they both charge. There is a lot of clashing and banging and grunting as each one tries to get the upper hand.

"I don't know why they even bother with this fight", someone says just in front of her and as she glares down to the person in front of her, she sees that it is the Arl of Denerim's son, Vaughn. He has his arms folded in front of his chest and looks almost bored. His friends next to him are imitating his pose and nodding along like the dumb little sheep they truly are. He doesn't dare to speak loud enough for his father to hear him, but by the look on Fergus' face she can see, that he could make out at least a part of what was said.

It is then that Roland takes a bad blow and staggers back, barely bringing up his shield in time to block a heavy swing of Ser Danal's mace. Vaughn start to laugh and he leans forwards, lifting his arms to his mouth as he shouts: "Hey, Danal, it is not nice to play with your prey!" His friends are howling with laughter and joining in with shouts of their own.

Aífe can feel a muscle in her jaw twitch as she glares the back of Vaughn's head into the Fade, but to no avail. So she looks up instead, forgetting all about the correct and demure posture her mother showed her – her hands are on the railing and she is craning her neck and stretching to see better. Roland is still on the retreat and has barely enough time to get out of his defensive position to try and land a hit himself. His steps are unsteady and not as well thought through as they usually are. When Ser Danal brings the mace down on him particularly hard, she can hear his grunt even from where she is sitting. People start to cheer for Ser Danal and the crowd starts to murmur.

"Look at that, the little boy has no chance against Danal!", Vaughn says full of glee, "They should have left him on his farmstead instead of bringing him to an official tournament."

When Roland stumbles a third time as he diverts an attack and goes down to one knee and laughter erupts from the stands, something in her snaps.

She is standing before she even realizes what she is doing and grabs the railing tight, as she leans forward. "Kick his ass, Roland!", she screams and almost tips forward. "You can do it! Come on!" Her mabari apparently takes that as his cue, because even while she is still screaming her lungs out, he jumps up with a whine and props himself up on the railing to join in her shouts with a deafening howl.

For a moment everything grows quiet and she can feels her mother's hand on her elbow, tugging on her to sit back down. There is a hissed "Aífe!" uttered in a quiet tone, but she ignores it just like she ignores the eyes that are now on her. Even Ser Danal and Roland have stopped for a short moment, heads turned her way. She cannot see his face, but she is pretty sure Roland has turned beet red by now. Grimm finally concludes his howl with the tiniest wuff and turns to look at her expectantly, unsure what to do with all the sudden attention.

She considers her options for the fraction of a moment, decides that all pretense of being a nice and quiet and demure woman has gone to the Fade anyways, and so she lifts her hands to her mouth to form a funnel and just keeps going: "Come on! Get up! There's some floor-wiping to be done!" She is the tiniest bit embarrassed at the lack of expressions she has that seem to be fitting, but her ever loyal Grimm does not seem to care for that. Instead he starts barking towards the knights, tail wagging like crazy as he tries to keep a steady stance next to his mistress.

"Move, move, move!", she shouts and has the urge to advice him to go for the soft parts, but then, that would be un-knight-ly and that is more something that _she_ would do and not Roland. The tugging at her elbow stops, because her mother has probably concluded that it is too late for damage control and that they will just have to abandon her in some or other wood and tell people that she was married to Antiva. Or Orlais. Or perhaps Rivain. Rivain would be nice this time of year.

"Ser Gilmore!", Fergus suddenly joins her shouts and starts to clap rhythmically. "Gilmore! Gilmore! Gilmore!" She starts to laugh and joins in with his shouts and so does Grimm, barking with each syllable and finding this new game to be marvelous fun. Her mother groans, very quietly, and then quite a bit louder when Bryce decides to join the chorus with the same enthusiasm. It does not take long at all before others join in and the whole field reverberates from the shouts.

Roland gets back to his feet and raises his sword in one quick salute, before he hefts his shield again to block an infuriated swing of Ser Danal's weapon. Aífe can see that his steps are more concentrated now, less hasty and panicked. He gains footing and surprises his opponent when he does not block a thrust with his shield, but instead diverts it with his own sword – it gives him a precious opening that he uses to ram his shield hard against Ser Danal's chest and make him stumble for the first time. The fight is not easy and she can see that Roland has a hard time, he dances here and there, always waiting for an opportunity. Ser Danal is good, she has to give him that, but he is getting hasty and distracted, even though the shouts have died down now and people are watching open-mouthed.

She winces when Ser Danal lands a swing on Roland's shoulder and his knees give way, but the Highever knight uses the motion to duck under the next swing and do a quick turn to flank Ser Danal – a move she has used not too long ago during their training in Highever.

Roland lands a hit and then a second one and bit by bit he wears down his opponent until at last, after a seemingly endless amount of time has passed, Ser Danal is on his knees and throws his sword to the floor in a gesture of surrender.

Aífe is breathing hard, her heart beating as though she herself had been down there, but she is grinning and finally allows herself to sink back onto her seat. Roland takes off his helmet – she was right, his face is as red as his hair – and he bows deeply before the king. The crowd erupts again, hooting and applauding and cheering the knight on.

"Sometimes you are giving me a headache, dear", Eleanor sighs with exhaustion and looks at her daughter. "That is okay", Aífe says and locks eyes with Roland who has turned to search the ranks. They share a smile and without looking away from him, she continues: "Sometimes I give myself a headache."

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**Author's Comment: **So, yeah. My brain came up with this some days ago and I decided to upload it, because, let's me honest... it's very Aífe-y to do that. Also, she is now 10 silvers richer than she was before and one step closer to punching Vaughn in the face, eventually. Aside from that, I want to thank **Emma** for being the first one to read this. ;) And I would be very happy for any feedback and comments and reviews on what you think. :) Hope you enjoyed the read!


	8. Fun and Games

**Fun and Games**

„Go, get it, girl! Who's a good girl? You are! Yes, you are!", little Fergus cooed and took the offered ball into his hands again. He stood up and drew his arm back to launch the ball again.

"Get the ball, little one! Come on, get it!", he encouraged his playmate again and put his hands in his hips, grinning as he watched her progress. She had stubby little legs and was not moving very fast and now that he looked at her, she was a bit uncoordinated. Her foot got caught on a root and she stumbled, but righted herself again and trotted on, after the still rolling ball. She was faithful, he supposed, his parents had been correct in that assumption. If now she would only drool a bit less…

"Fergus!", he heard his father call and turned around, but could not catch sight of him. He took a few steps to get a better view of the garden, but spotted nobody between the trees and flowers his mother had planted. When his father called again, he turned the other way and this time saw Bryce come down the small flight of stairs leading down from the small hall.

"There you are, your mother is looking for you", Bryce told him and Fergus cringed. He had been sure he had not left any traces of the pie he might have or might not have removed illegally (and illegitimately) from the kitchen a few hours earlier.

"Now, do not give me that look, Fergus", his father said and while he tried to look stern, Fergus could well enough spot the grin that was starting to form on his father's lips. "You should not have gotten marmalade all over your tunic and there would have been no proof. Ah, the things you have yet to learn."

Fergus remained silent and pouted, perhaps just a bit. He had pushed the tunic under his bed, it had been practically out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Except for his mother. His mother always knew everything. It was like she had a sixth and seventh and even eight sense when it came to these kinds of things.

The ball was returned to him once again and he took it, wiping off the slobber on his trousers without even looking. He sighed and cast his father a look, but Bryce stood unwavering and just raised an eyebrow at him. With an even louder sigh Fergus turned around again and threw the ball, watching it bounce over the grass.

"Come on, one last time! Go get the ball, lass!", he cheered and motioned toward the ball. May as well delay the impending doom, if he could. She looked at him briefly, then at his father, and then ran after the ball with the same enthusiasm as the last dozens of times.

"Fergus", Bryce said and Fergus pressed his lips into a thin line. "Yes, Papa?" He refused to turn and look at his father, because technically, he had to look after the ball so it would not get lost and that root over there could get dangerous.

"Fergus", Bryce said again, "are you making your sister fetch the ball like a dog?" Fergus considered the question for a moment. Well, she _was_ dropping down onto all fours to pick the ball up. And she _had_ a tendency to take it in her mouth somewhere along the way and gnaw on it. He had really not told her to do it like that. Plus, she was squealing with joy whenever he threw the ball for her, fat little arms raised as she stormed off after it.

Just now she returned, ball held to her mouth, big eyes dancing with joy as she came to a stand in front of him. She offered the ball to him and giggled enthusiastically as he took it from her, clapping her hands. "She likes it", Fergus answered lastly and risked a quick glance at his father, who was shaking his head.

"Look", he said and threw it once more for demonstration. Aífe threw her arms up in the air and squealing rather shrilly, stomping off after it with unabated enthusiasm. Fergus watched her run and cocked his head to the side. His parents had been right, now that she could run, she was kind of fun to play with.

Bryce walked past him and after Aífe, picking her up after she had gotten the ball. His sister laughed and leaned in close to their father, gnawing on the ball with a thoughtful look. After a moment, she started to cough and dropped the it. "Next time, try to take a ball she cannot put into her mouth. I think she just swallowed a bug", Bryce suggested and tried to get a look into her mouth, when she put out her tongue and crossed her eyes trying to look at it. Fergus followed reluctantly and sighed, kicking the ball to the side.

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**Author's Note: **Sorry, Aífe, but this story had to resurface at some point. LOL At least Fergus helped boost your immune system! In this little oneshot Aífe is somewhere between 1 year and 1.5 years old, so that Fergus is around 6-7 years old. And yes, he's totally not feeling guilty.  
>Thanks, <strong>Emma<strong>, for reading over it =)

P.S.: Excample minus bug taken from real life.

P.P.S.: Older sisters can be cruel. 


	9. Cloth Famine

**Cloth Famine**

Things happened, as people used to say. Things just happened more often around her, that was all. Pure coincidence and bad luck and perhaps a severe brain malfunction.

At least that was what Aífe was telling herself as she stood pressed against the wooden door – _please no splinter in my arse, please, please_ – and dug her fingers into the towel she had wrapped around herself. For some reason it seemed to grow shorter and tighter by the second and she worried her lip, wondering how she had ended up in this position in the first place.

Not that she did not _know_ how it had happened. It was more of a general wonderment how all the little details had led to _this_. This being Nathaniel Howe glowering at her as though she had mortally offended him by her mere presence – which was a tad insulting, seeing as how she wore little more than a towel and doing her best impression of a frightened deer faced by a party of hunting dogs. Apparently nakedness had no effect on Nathaniel Howe. At least not her nakedness. Jerk.

"Aífe?", he asked and she could hear the doubt in his voice.

It was dark in his room – there was only one candle burning on his nightstand and the shine of the torchlight from the corridor barely reached through the crack under the door. She could barely make out his face, his shoulder-length dark hair falling into his eyes as he leaned forward.

There was the slim chance that he had no idea who she was. But then, there was a certain shortage of women under 20 in the estate and she was pretty sure her yelp of surprise when he had gripped her arm and pressed her against the door had given her away. She might also have squeaked when he used his body to immobilize her. Somehow knowing that he was a head taller than her was a bit different than feeling he was a freaking head taller and much stronger than her.

"No", she said nevertheless in the vain hope to persuade him that she was not in fact Aífe. For good effect, she added a bit of an Orlesian accent – which came out rather horribly. Maybe he would believe she was a _drunk_ Orlesian person. There were quite a few of those around here.

Even in the darkness she could see him furrow his brows and lower his head to get a better look at her, one hand still on her arm that he pressed flat against the door over her head. She tightened the grip on the towel with her other hand, trying to melt into the door. Sadly, it did not work.

"I do not no dis Eeefa-person you ar' e speaking of!", she added for effect and almost cringed at the remarkable fail of accent. The only word she had gotten down to a notch was her own name when screeched with that terrible, terrible accent. What was up with Orlesians trying to pronounce her name, anyhow? It was not that difficult. Yet they insisted to somehow integrate the sound of a dying cat into it.

Come to think of dying… Fergus would kill her. First he would laugh until he cried and then he would doubtlessly strangle her. And tell their parents there had been an accident. Or worse, he would tell them and they'd all laugh! Except for her mother and Oriana, they would frown at her and then debate on where they had gone wrong and then they'd want her to spend the summer in Orlais and… Oh no. Not Orlais!

"Aífe", he cut off her thought process rather briskly, "I hesitate to ask, I really do – but why are you in my room just after midnight?" There was a very short pause and he cleared his throat, a glint of something entering his grey eyes. "And why are you naked?"

A question that was directly connected to aforementioned brain malfunction with a teaspoon of bad luck. Still, first things first. She crinkled her nose and looked at him testily, chin raised.

"Why do you even ask if it is me if you know the answer anyhow? That seems rather impolite." She tried to slip her hand out from under his, but he would not let go. Apparently he did not deem that question worthy of an answer, because he remained silent.

Grumbling, she jerked at her hand - the outcome of that, however, was merely that she felt herself shift against him. Which was not a smart move. A hot blush crawled up her neck as she realized with some delay that he was wearing no tunic.

"I am not naked", she snapped hastily and decided not to move at all. No rubbing of body parts. No shifting of towels. No thoughts as to the whereabouts of tunics. Well. Not many. "Besides, why are you not wearing anything? Is there a tunic shortage in the Free Marches? A fabric famine? Some horrible fire that took out the warehouses storing all tunics in the Free Marches?"

She made the mistake of looking down his torso in an attempt to look critical. Sadly, that only served to illustrate that he had apparently just slipped into his trousers. They were hanging precariously low on his narrow hips. The laces in the front were open. Which left her thinking that he had probably been naked as she entered. Stark naked.

A hysterical giggle escaped her and she averted her eyes to the ceiling. The ceiling was harmless. Perfectly harmless. Nothing to see up there.

"We are in my room", he pointed out and sounded somewhat pressed. "I am not wearing a tunic, because I had gone to bed after Fergus, you and me returned from Baron Julien about an hour ago. Now that I have explained myself, I will ask you again: Why are you naked?"

Aífe still felt the need to point out that she was, in fact, not naked. A towel had to count for something, did it not? However, since his frown had deepened, she decided against that and instead allowed herself to be amazed by the shadows the candle cast on the ceiling. There were footfalls in front of the door. Two men were talking.

"It is a pretty long story. A very complicated long story", she said quietly.

"I think I'd still like to hear it", he replied. He did not sound in the mood for any arguments and she could not very well turn around and run anyhow. Not unless she wanted to make things even more awkward - if such a thing was even possible.

"How long have you been in the Free Marches now?", she asked with a nervous laugh and felt him pause. "Lord Nicolas is such a nice person, I cannot believe he offered both Fergus and me to stay with you at his estate as guests. He is a Chevalier and son of a quite famous noble, as I understood it, no? Baron something? You are quite fortunate to have squired with him. Such a nice young man."

Great. Now she sounded like her mother. Scratch that, now she sounded like that very, very distant old aunt that lived in that little cottage right at the coastline and would not stop babbling. Nice young man. Aífe banged her head against the door behind her.

His grip tightened and he gave her an exasperated look. She knew the kind. It was the same one she had gotten when she had tried to tag along with Fergus and him when she was a small girl. Apparently even at the age of 18 and with nothing but a towel on, she still got the very same reaction. An exasperated look.

Really, Nathaniel Howe? Really?! That was almost insulting. It was not like she was that much younger than him, just 6 or 7 years. Practically nothing. She was not a little girl anymore! There were literally a couple of arguments he could not possibly overlook!

She lowered her head to glare at him, which she instantly regretted. Nakedness. Right. Quickly lowering her gaze further, she decided to look at her toes. She wiggled them. Nice innocent toes. Except she was now looking down the entire length of his body and those trousers were riding really low. Really, really low. Kind of pronouncing that trail leading downwards to-

She snapped her head up so fast that sudden pain lanced through her neck and almost made her stumble. If there had been room to stumble. However, there was no room. There was only Nathaniel Howe. And a crick in her neck.

"Look, Aífe", he said after a few moments and cleared his throat. He took a step back - finally! - and slowly let go off her hand, as if he expected her to do something crazy and was not sure if he could actually allow her control over her appendages without danger. Which was ridiculous. She had perfect control of her appendages. It was her brain that seemed somewhat malevolent towards her.

Aífe immediately used the freed arm to reinforce her hold on the towel around her chest, while the other hand could now tug it down as far as she dared. Two hands were definitely better than one hand, yes.

"I feel…", Nathaniel started and vaguely gestured with one hand, the muscles under his skin dancing at the movement. He paused for a moment and then continued. "I feel honored you would think of me in this way. You are a very attractive young woman."

Wait, what?

"However, I have the greatest respect for your brother - and for you, of course", he was quick to add. "In hindsight, I should have seen such a situation arise. I apologize if I have given you any signals of whatever kind. I try to treat women with utmost respect and…" He kept talking, but somehow, Aífe was too busy gaping at him to actually listen at this point.

What had just happened? Had she missed a vital part of the conversation? What in…? She did not even…!

"So, as much as I… ah… appreciate that you would consider me worthy, I really do believe it best…" He was still talking and she only caught bits and pieces. Her mouth had dropped open by now.

He believed she had come here to get into his pants. Or bed. Or both. Nathaniel. Howe. Believed she wanted to bed him. Oh no. No no no. Maker, no!

It took her painstakingly long to finally regain enough brain function to use the hand previously trying to magically elongate the towel to cover more skin. She started waving it in front of her in a wide arch to get his attention. He slowed down, but did not completely stop talking until she spoke herself.

"Excuse me?!", she snapped. Nathaniel seemed hesitant for a moment, then he took another step away, further into the light of the candle.

"Aífe, I realize that right now you have reached a difficult phase of your life. Much is changing and there are certain… ideas, that might arise", he said very slowly and calmly. Another step away from her. His voice sounded a bit rough, as though he had a hard time choosing his words. "I assure you that you are a fine young lady and you will make some man very, very happy. Someday. Not tonight." One more step and he had reached the bed, which effectively cut off his retreat. "You have many good attributes. You are very… lively!", he said after a far too long pause. She was not sure if he tried to compliment her. She really wasn't. Lively? What kind of trait was that?! Lively?! Sheep could be lively!

"Your… Your hair! It looked very nice today", he added, almost as an afterthought. She touched a hand to her sun-bleached hair that she still had tied up into a somewhat elaborate bun. He had lost her. She had no idea what her hair had to do with anything.

"However, I just can't feel this way about you. Fergus is a very good friend of mine. I could never… You are doubtlessly very attractive, you are. I thank you for the attention, but I really have to send you back to your room. Now." He cleared his throat again, averted his gaze to the floor in embarrassment for a moment and seemed unsure what to do with his hands at this point.

Aífe knew pretty well what she wanted to do with hers. However, panicked flailing with occasional bouts of hysterical giggles would probably not help – or worse, only result in a loss of towel.

"You have got to be kidding me", she finally wheezed. She felt like all her blood had been redirected to her face, which was glowing probably as bright as a glowworm in the dark. For a moment she wondered when she had lost control of the situation and had to admit, it had probably been when she was running through the corridors in her towel like a madwoman.

The corridor outside was quiet now. No noises. No voices. The room was equally quiet.

"I did not come here to… to… do things to you. With you, I mean." Her voice sounded shrill to her own ears. Probably a result of too little air in her lungs. Or a heart-attack. Really, either one felt like a possibility right now. "I have never even thought of seducing you. Or bedding you. Or doing anything of the sort!", she insisted.

Which was no longer the case now. Now her brain decided it best to present her with various scenarios of how he might think she had planned to seduce him. One of which involved the complete lack of towels of any sort. And strawberries. And they were not even in season!

Thankyouverymuch. Just what she needed.

"I did not even know this was your room when I entered!", she blurted out. In hindsight, perhaps not the best way to continue, judging by the giant frown settling on Nathaniel's face. It was like some sort of very attached pet. Always at the ready and very clingy.

"It was an accident!", Aífe said. She wondered why the sentences sounded so much better in her head than spoke out loud. As he opened his mouth so speak, she cut him off with a wildly waving hand.

"We returned from Baron Julien and were all dusty from the road and sweaty from the dancing. You and Fergus went to have a drink with Lord Nicolas in his study and as I walked to my room, a maid approached me and asked whether I wanted a bath drawn. Of course I did not decline! I just… I just wanted a bath!" She paused for a second, wondering how such an innocent wish could have made her end up here.

"However, because she looked rather tired and it was after midnight, I only told her to prepare it in a room downstairs so nobody would have to carry the water up to my room! Once it was ready, I sent them off to sleep. I did not want to bother them more than necessary." She spoke so quickly that she stumbled over the words, but she had the feeling if she gave him even a single opportunity to interrupt her, he would start thinking again and of all the things… She did not want that to happen.

"I went into the bath and settled down and only climbed out when the water was getting cold. However, I realized then that I had not brought fresh clothes. The estate was so very, very quiet and I did not want to slip back into those dirty, stinking clothes and so - I figured it was not very far, you know? Just up the stairs and around the corner and I would be in my room! I figured nothing could go wrong."

Her thought process back then had seemed utterly logical. It really had.

"I wrapped the towel around me and slipped out to run to my room. However, obviously I had not considered guards patrolling all the corridors. I heard one approach and quickly scampered off so he would not see me in only a towel, which would have been utterly embarrassing and difficult to explain", she continued her story. She had done a marvelous job indeed. Out of the frying pan into the fire.

The problem had been the patrolling guards she had not been told about. She had simply assumed they had fixed positions at all entrances and key parts of the estate. Why had nobody told her of the patrolling guards?! Basically, none of this was her fault. At all.

"Apparently I made some sort of noise, because he heard me and one thing came to another and… before I knew what had happened I was running away and he was chasing me, shouting for me to stop. Seeing as I did not intend to do that anytime soon, could not run very fast and thought I would just bump into another guard, I slipped into the next-best door that was out of sight. I ended up in here."

Aífe stopped pacing as she ended up at the door again. When again had she thought herself to be smart? Sometime in the last century? Seemed about right.

As she looked up, she found Nathaniel's gaze fixed on her. The candle nicely accentuated the play of his muscles as he lifted one hand to bury it in his loose hair. She could see nothing of his face since he was standing with his back to the candle, but she was pretty sure she did not want to anyhow.

"Mhm", he said very gravely.

A hysterical giggle bubbled forth before she could stop it. He did not believe a single word she had just said. She had told him the absolute truth with all embarrassing details and he did not believe her at all. In fact, she was pretty sure he thought she would jump on him any moment now to nibble on his neck.

Which was not what she had been thinking of prior to this moment. However, him rubbing his neck only drew attention to that part of his anatomy. She worried her lip and leaned back against the wooden door, banging her head against it one more time. The picture, however, was stuck. Great. Now she was not sure anymore whether his accusations were founded or not.

"I see", Nathaniel said. Which was a lie, as she knew perfectly well. "I still think it would be best if you returned to your room now." He inclined his head towards the door, very carefully approaching her. Niiiiiice. She had seen rabid wolves approached with less care.

Lowering her head to look at him, she blew out a sigh. She was pretty sure that he had no inclination of actually considering her story and even less of taking it for the truth it was.

Plus, there was little chance of him having any strawberries around.

_Shut up, brain._

Aífe straightened her back, pushed herself away from the door and raised her chin. Might as well go down with style.

"For your information, Nathaniel Howe", she said with the most regal tone she could manage, "me entering your quarters was pure coincidence and not part of any plan, despite your apparent desire to believe otherwise. Sometimes slightly eccentric moments take place in my vicinity with no influence on my part whatsoever, such as it has occurred this evening. They do not express any urges or desires – hidden or obvious. As such, rest assured that you are absolutely safe. Furthermore, I would strongly advise you not to speak of this to anybody. Ever again. In your life. Or at least my life."

Aífe managed to grip the ham of her towel with one hand and actually perform something that looked like a formal curtsy.

"I thank you for the hospitality you have offered me, I am much obliged. If you will excuse me, I would now retreat to my quarters. I feel rather exhausted and think I require rest. I bid you a fair night, Nathaniel."

She turned on her heels, opened the door and slipped out before he could so much as say a peep. Hesitating for a tiny moment, she poked her head back in, only to find him standing where she left him, still looking into her general direction, both eyebrows raised.

"If you ever bring this up ever again, I will deny anything of the sort ever happened. Just so you know", she explained and he nodded somewhat slowly. "Also: Andraste's flaming sword! Put on a tunic, will you?!"

Not waiting for his reaction to that, she slipped out again, let the door fall into the lock and tiptoed towards the general direction of her room. Praying. There was no saying where she would end up if another chase ensued and she would rather not explain to Lord Nicolas the whereabouts of her clothes.

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**Author's Comment:**

I have absolutely no excuse for this, except that I did it for fun and giggles, literally. I might be a tad bit retarded, but I laughed way too hard while writing this. Oh, poor Nate. Actually, poor Aífe. But I am not even sorry. :p  
>I hope you enjoy this as much as I did X'D Just as a small reference: Nathaniel is roughly 26 and Aífe is 18 in this oneshot and I kind of imagine that Aífe was the annoying little sister always trying to tag along when they were young. And somehow she cannot shake that imagine.<p>

Also as a sidenote: The way I use direct speeches and kommas is German. o-o And I only realized very recently that it is actually a bit different from English style, so I apologize if that makes it a bit weird looking to native speakers. I will see for the next bits and pieces how I'll handle this, but decided to leave this one in this style for now, fitting with the rest of the oneshots in here. :)

Last but not least: A biiiiig thanks to my beta, **Eynla!** :3 And also to **BlondMoments** for having a first glance at Nathaniel and his reactions. X'D Thanks also to all those who review these bits and pieces =) I appreciate it really, really much! Hope to hear your opinion on this!


	10. Brotherly Love

**Brotherly Love**

Fergus looked back over his shoulder and scowled.

"She is still following us," he murmured and cast a glance at his friend walking beside him.

Nathaniel Howe was only a few months younger than him and pretty much the best guy when it came to stealing pies from the kitchen. Sure, he absolutely sucked at climbing trees, but Fergus had long since decided to accept that fact and concentrate on the benefits. Such as pie.

"I know. I can see her," Nate replied, hands in pockets. He did not even turn around to verify that, but it was hardly necessary to see her in order to know that she _was_ there.

She was sighing every few seconds when she got too far behind because they were walking to fast. And then she would run a few steps to catch up with them again. And _then_ she would sigh some more. He could practically feel her breathing down his neck.

"Do something," he begged Nate and made the mistake of looking back again. His little sister locked eyes with him and sighed again, her lower lip quivering and her eyes big and sad. He hesitated for the blink of an eye, then squared his shoulder and turned back again.

"She is your sister. You do something!" Nate insisted and kicked a little stone out of his way.

"I tried. She won't go away." Bribery hadn't worked and neither had threats. She tagged along like a lost Mabari pup. Fergus blinked and frowned. So _that_ is where she had gotten her nickname from!

"You said I can come play," Aífe suddenly piped up behind them. She was talking very quietly and again ran to catch up with them. Fergus rolled his eyes. His sister was apparently too stupid to realize that the rules that applied when it was just the two of them did not apply when he had guests. Especially not when he had a guest that actually would swordfight with him. Also, she was a terrible pie-thief. She always went to confess to their father right after they were done eating and then they had to help clean the dishes. Then she would promise not to tell their father ever again - and do it as soon as they had pilfered another pie.

Nate was casting him a horrified glance and gestured towards Aífe, disbelief evident in his voice. "You told you _sister_ she can come play?"

"No! No I did not!" Fergus was quick to defend himself and reared around to put his hand over Aífe's mouth when she was about to protest. She probably remembered exactly when and where he had said it. And he really didn't want Nate to believe that he played with his _sister_. It was mostly only when he was really bored, anyhow. Really, really bored. And when she begged him fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Look, I will show you something really cool and then you'll leave us alone," he bargained and she blinked up at him, grey eyes wide with curiosity.

Turning his head he could see Nate scowl and was quick to wink at his friend. Nate seemed still a bit unhappy with the development of the situation, but shrugged.

"You want to know how to spit like a real man?" Fergus asked Aífe, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

She frowned, pulling his hand away from her mouth. "But I am a girl," she said and crinkled her nose.

"_Fine_," he said exasperated. "Want to know how to spit like a real warrior woman, then?"

Aífe considered that for a moment and then nodded quickly, her two pigtails bouncing with the movement.

"Seriously?" Nate asked and Fergus turned around to face him, mouthing _'Trust me'. _Nate frowned, and inclined his head quizzically, but Fergus only offered him a grin as turned to his sister. He grabbed her by the shoulder and guided her into the middle of the courtyard, quickly the conditions crucial for the proper development of his plan. Nodding, he stood beside her.

"Look at me and watch me closely," he instructed and then gathered a substantial amount of saliva, pushing it to the tip of his tongue - and then spit it out in a wide arc. Aífe was watching him with amazement and was standing with her mouth slightly open in awe.

"You just collect as much spit as you can and then push it to the front of your mouth. And then you blow really hard," he instructed and fought down a giggle. "Nate will show you one more time how it is done, look closely."

Nate, still not catching on but clearly intrigued stepped forward and demonstrated his own skills. With no uncertain amount of pride Fergus saw that he had actually managed to spit farther than Nate. Ha!

"Got it?" he asked his sister. He giggled in anticipation.

Aífe squinted at him and for a moment he was worried he had given himself away, but when he flashed her a bright smile, she nodded reluctantly.

"Alright, commence saliva harvest!" he commanded and grasped her shoulder, feeling the wind get stronger and pull at his hair. This was the moment.

Aífe had blown up her cheeks, looking at him expectantly. He turned with her and pointed at a bucket a few feet away. "That is your aim. Look up a bit when you spit, it will give you a nice arch. Give it your all, Aífe. As much as you can!"

Behind him, Nate began to chuckle and Fergus bit his lip. Aífe looked at him over her shoulder and he nodded encouragingly.

He could feel her tense beneath his fingers as she straightened and spat with as much power as she could muster. It took her too long to realize why her projectile was slowing down. By the time she realized she was a victim of the wind blowing into her direction, it was far too late. Her spit hit her flat in the face.

Revolving on the spot, he grabbed Nate's arm and started to run as fast as he could, barely able to do so in a straight line as the laughter bubbled forth. He could hear Nate wheeze for air in between barks of laughter.

In the distance, he heard Aífe breathe fire and brimstone.

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**Author's Comment:  
><strong>For once, this is totally made up - my sister only taught me how to burp. Never how to spit. I took liberty with the power of physics or metereologie. Just imagine the wind is REALLY picking up. LOL  
>I hope you found this oneshot as entertaining as I did (clapping like a retarded seal over here!); Aífe is roughly 6-7 years in this one, while Fergus and Nathaniel are 12-13.<br>I want to say my thanks to my beta-readers, **Eynla ****and alyssacousland**, thanks a bunch for sniffing out those mistakes that love to hide in my works. X'D A big thank you also to everybody reading and reviewing - **BlondMoments, Graymalkyn, EkoCentric** and **all of you** who have favoured this and put me on alert. :3 Enjoy and let me know what you think!


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